Page 110 of Heirs of the Cursed

For them to take her instead.

To beg for a second chance . . .

As Darcia reached the circus’ main entrance, she sighed in relief. She looked up at the stars and the vast expanse of the forest, its outline flowing in the heat of the flames. The cool air finally filled her chest.

Just as she thought she’d escaped, a hard blow struck the back of her neck with brutal force.

Then darkness swallowed her whole.

30

Bellmare

The City of the Sea had plunged into chaos. The soldiers had ravaged Bellmare for days, with barbaric violence that showed the growing impatience of its ruler. King Kirus was unsatisfiedwith the constant failure of his army. They had to be faster, more voracious, no matter what that meant for the Bellmarians.

Naithea couldn’t allow it, not after her whole world had shattered.

The commander who had won her heart and soul was Killian Allencort, the faceless prince she had hated all her life—the one she had blamed for her mother’s death and her tragic fate. He’d deceived her all along and toyed with her while pretending to be someone who didn’t exist.

And she had foolishly fallen in love with him.

Naithea’s heart ached at the lies he’d told and the secrets he’d kept from her, but mourning a liar wasn’t a luxury she could afford. Her home and family were in danger as long as the Royal Army remained in Bellmare, so she focused on the Dark Twins and the role they played in Laivalon’s fate.

With her head covered under a warm cloak, Naithea left the brothel and walked into the streets in the direction of Dyron Selmi’s store. Upon finding it locked, she made use of the hairpins holding her braids and worked on the lock until the door finally opened with a low creak.

Naithea walked blindly through the darkness and soon reached a half-open door, the small room lit by flickering oil lamps.

“I knew you would come,” Dyron said, sitting on the ground and with his back turned to her. “Are you here to collect my debt?”

“Something like that,” she said, leaning back against the doorframe.

“What information do you seek now?”

“Who said it’s information I want?”

Dyron Selmi rose from the ground with the aid of his staff, the curved hilt of which enveloped a small crystal sphere composedof swirling shadows. Naithea’s eyes scanned the design carefully before focusing on him again.

“I can see it in your eyes, siren.”

“What did the commander want from you that night?”

“We both know he’s no commander.”

“Prince Killian,” she said aloud for the first time since she’d left him on the market streets. Her heart shattered at her own words. “What did he want?”

“Knowledge of ancient magic, unlike anything seen before.”

“Why?”

“He wishes to override the wards that keep the princesses hidden and protected,” he answered bluntly.

The pendant on her necklace burned between Naithea’s collarbones. “Did you give him what he was looking for?”

“Of course not.” Dyron blew out one of the candles, its wax melting on the table. “The future the goddesses have shown me requires that the princesses remain protected until they come to terms with their true selves. Until they assume their role. Do you understand?”

Naithea swallowed as she heard the truisms she could no longer ignore. Revelations of her past, dark promises about her future . . .

A completed puzzle.

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